" He threw
a small brown leather grip upon the floor. "In case you should care to
visit the house, Petrie, I have brought these things. My tenancy
commences to-night!"
Two days had elapsed, and I had entirely forgotten the strange story
of The Gables which Inspector Weymouth had related to us; evidently it
was otherwise with my friend, and utterly at a loss for an explanation
of his singular behaviour, I stooped mechanically and opened the grip.
It contained an odd assortment of garments, and amongst other things
several grey wigs and a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles.
Kneeling there with this strange litter about me, I looked up
amazedly. Nayland Smith, the unsuitable silk hat set right upon the
back of his head, was pacing the room excitedly, his fuming pipe
protruding from the tangle of factitious beard.
"You see, Petrie," he began again, rapidly, "I did not entirely trust
the agent. I've leased the house in the name of Professor Maxton...."
"But, Smith," I cried, "what possible reason can there be for
disguise?"
"There's every reason," he snapped.
"Why should you interest yourself in The Gables?"
"Does no explanation occur to you?"
"None whatever; to me the whole thing smacks of stark lunacy."
"Then you won't come?"
"I've never stuck at anything, Smith," I replied, "however
undignified, when it has seemed that my presence could be of the
slightest use."
As I rose to my feet, Smith stepped in front of me, and the steely
grey eyes shone out strangely from the altered face.
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